


Rush of Emotions

by theboohtoyourbah



Category: Garfield - All Media Types, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Eventual Smut, Fraternities & Sororities, M/M, Papyrus - Freeform, Sans - Freeform, Smut, garfield - Freeform, he/they garfield
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29446980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theboohtoyourbah/pseuds/theboohtoyourbah
Summary: Sans is a sophomore at Snowdin College, and is excited for his first year overseeing the fraternity rush. Little does he know, someone will walk into his life and not only take his breath away, but take him on the ride of a lifetime. For my friend Bella, inspired by the fact that AO3 has no Sans x Garfield fics and the urge to fix it.
Relationships: Sans/Garfield
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	Rush of Emotions

Sans groaned as he came to, head pounding from the liquor he’d had the night before. The sunlight streaming through the crack in his blinds sure wasn’t helping matters either. He swore lowly under his breath, heaving himself off the ground to stumble over to the curtain and yank it shut before collapsing backwards onto his bed. He shut his eyes for a moment, steadying himself before he pushed himself up once more, swaying a bit on the spot before pinching the bridge above his nasal cavity. The frat rush began today, and as a sophomore this was his first year watching it instead of taking part. At least he never needed to relive  _ that _ , he thought, and got up to rifle through his dresser for something clean to wear. He pulled out a dark blue hoodie, shrugging his shirt off over his shoulders and onto the floor before pulling the hoodie on in its place. He figured the jeans he’d passed out in would do, and walked down to the kitchen, snagging a lukewarm beer off the counter and rooting through the back of the fridge. Behind all the half-empty takeout containers Sans found a box of strawberries a few days out from rotting, and pulled it out. Sitting on the island counter, he finished off his breakfast of champions. Right when he was about to bite into the final strawberry, he felt it snatched from his hand, and looked up to see Papyrus chomp down on it with a chuckle. Papyrus was a senior this year, and had been his Big Brother when he was a pledge. Though kind of eclectic, he was a friendly enough dude, and Sans was secretly thankful for his enthusiastic guidance. 

“Whatcha thinkin about?” Papyrus crowed, licking his nubs and throwing the strawberry leaves into the trash behind him.

“Just thinking about the new recruits,” Sans replied, tossing the empty plastic tin in after the discarded strawberry.

“Mm, your first time’s always exciting,” Papyrus cackled, wiggling his eyebrows. Sans punched him in the bicep, but cracked a small smile nonetheless.

“I hate you,” he grinned, though privately agreed. He had to admit he was looking forward to seeing the new recruits. The house was in desperate need of some fresh blood, what with their former head Asgore having graduated the year before. 

He then heard the faint creak of the door opening across the house and locked eyes with Papyrus for a second, before pushing himself off the counter and walking towards the dull hum of conversation. The first mixer was basically a free for all, snacks and beer scattered across various tables and countertops. Clearly their video had worked, as there was already a handful of hopefuls standing awkwardly in the foyer, eyes darting across the large room and towards the tall staircase that led to the bedrooms upstairs. Sans snatched another beer can off the table closest to him and leaned back against the wall, surveying the potential members from the corner of the room. It was hard to tell much about them, though he could feel the anxious energy rolling off of a few of them. For the most part, they were scattered in small groups, the more intrepid members of the frat chatting amongst them, likely trying to gauge their dynamic in the group. 

Two more figures stepped into the house and Sans took a pause, beer stilled mid swig for a moment as he took in the new arrivals. The one in the lead was oozing excitement, a short grey cat wearing Nike sweats and a plain t-shirt. He was animatedly dragging the other one into the house, and he was the one all of Sans’ attention was drawn to. The second male was a bit chubbier and a head taller than his friend, clearly displeased at the whole event. He pulled at the edge of his flannel, and Sans noted the Mac Demarco shirt underneath. He wished he could hear what he was saying, then quickly dismissed the thought as foolish. He forced himself to look away, his eyes sweeping the room once more, but when he looked back, the orange one’s eyes were locked onto him. He stared unabashed for a moment, taken aback at the confrontation, watching them give him a quick once over. But it was over all too soon as their friend dragged them away into the throng, and Sans was left wondering. Who were they? He had to know. He inserted himself into the crowd, joining Papyrus as he laughed along to a joke one of the newer pledges had just made. 

“Nyeh heh heh, hey Sans,” Papyrus croaked out, “this is Frisk.”

The pledge in question waved at him, and Sans smiled back. 

“Nice to meet you,” he replied, and sat back as Papyrus started animatedly on a story he’d heard about fifty times now. He swept his eyes over the room, and spotted the mystery stranger from earlier towards the back of the room, their friend having clearly long since given up on getting them to participate. Sans politely excused himself from the conversation and slowly meandered over towards them, seemingly headed to the snack table on their left. He grabbed a refill beer and leaned against the wall a few feet from them, avoiding eye contact.

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, taking a sip and purposely keeping his eyes trained on the crowd before him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw them glance at him for a moment, sizing him up before replying, “parties aren’t really my thing.”

Sans then turned to face him, smirking, “I can tell.” He sized them up once more, noting the scuffed Vans and the empty solo cup in their hand.

“Here,” he said, leaning over and taking the cup from their hands, “I’ll get you a refill.”

He followed him into the kitchen and away from the din, and Sans pulled the door shut to block out even more noise. It was early evening at this point, and the only light came from the dull sunset’s glow through the window. He opened up the fridge, leaning into it to grab a beer from the very back, then snapped the door shut. Walking over to the island where he put the other man’s cup, he cracked the can open, pouring it into the cup and handing it over. When he turned he found to his surprise they had been watching him the whole time, and when they locked eyes again he saw a faint blush dust his cheeks as he snatched his cup back. In an attempt to hide his face, the stranger took a deep swig, coughing lightly as they resurfaced. 

“So, what’s your name?” Sans queried in a seemingly light tone, all too eager for any information about this tangerine dream. 

“Garfield,” he replied, taking another sip. “And you?”

“I’m Sans,” he said, leaning back and smirking at them. After another beat of silence, he spoke, “I’m guessing parties like this aren’t really your thing.”

The other man snorted into his cup, replying, “no, I guess not. Is it that obvious?”

“Just a little,” Sans quipped, chuckling lowly. They stared openly at each other for a few seconds, each drinking the others’ appearance in and savoring every bit. Sans heard Garfield mutter something along the lines of “fuck it,” before they lunged at him, pressing him back into the counter as they kissed him forcefully. Sans immediately gave in, and let himself be felt up, reaching around to dig his bony fingers into their fur at the back of their head and pulled them in closer. He felt himself grow hard as they continued to make out, grinding against each other and only pulling apart occasionally to pant for air before diving back in. Suddenly, they heard a faint voice call out for Garfield, and he pulled back sharply, muttering “fuck” under his breath. 

“I have to go,” Garfield said, and Sans was delighted to hear annoyance in their voice. Sans dragged them down for one more punishing kiss, before releasing them, smacking their ass as they turned to the door.

“Come again soon,” Sans smirked, and even though Garfield rolled his eyes, Sans could see the small smile they were fighting to keep off their face. 

“We’ll see,” they quipped, and Sans watched them exit through the door, snapping it shut behind them. He closed his eyes, leaning back onto the counter as he desperately tried to relive the past few minutes in his mind. He prayed he’d get to see them again soon, and thankfully for him, he absolutely would.


End file.
